(because "Leave it to Beaver" was already taken)

La Liste

That’s french for “the list”. I Googled that just now because I couldn’t think of a catchy title.

So a couple weeks ago my friend Robyn came over. I love when she comes over because she brings wine and we eat cheese and chocolate things.

She was telling me about a guy she went to school with, the guy who wrote The Book of Awesome. He started as a blogger.

“Wait a tick…I’m a blogger!” I exclaimed.

[I did not say any of those words. But you get the idea.]

The conversation began because I was saying that you can’t write a book based on a blog. No one’s gonna publish/buy a book whose content is basically free online.

“I beg to differ!”, Robyn shouted.

[She would never say that. Nor does she shout at me.]

She then told me Neil Pasricha’s success story. She may have used the word “kajillionnaire”.

[That’s true.]

It’s had me thinking. Maybe HOAR can become a book! I can’t think of a better stocking stuffer than a heartwarming book filled with teenage she-staches, cat attacks and poo.

[Maybe a Samsung Galaxy S4 would be better. Or an iTunes gift card. But the poop book would be a solid 39th top pick. Amongst my immediate family members.]

So I’ve been trying to figure out what this HOAR might need to make it more marketable. And I think I’ve got it.

Lists.

Pasricha’s blog, 1000awesomethings.com, is a list of…um… one-thousand things. That are awesome.

[I should write blog reviews.]

Apparently people were on the edges of their seats awaiting the number one awesome thing. People like lists. Especially lists that count down to one big shebang of a finale. So I’ve decided I’m gonna start making more HOAR lists. Starting with this one.

[Note: I can’t think of a thousand of anything so I’m gonna stick with ten. Even that might be stretching it but here I go.]

Ten Ways My Five-Month-Old Shows Me He Loves Me

[Note: List items are actually in no particular order. Other than the order in which they popped into my head. But we’ll frame it like a countdown anyway. Because we all love countdowns.]

10. Sometimes I’m so exhausted that I confuse his name with the word Baby and call him something that sounds like a really drunk person saying “Moby”. And he smiles anyway.

Mommy’s not drunk. This is what sleep deprivation does.

9. He grabs my hair and keeps on pulling. With eerily intense grip strength that can only be fuelled by true love.

It’s pretty painful. Also, mirrors have become a thing of the past. And yes, that’s poop on my face.

8. He seems to actually enjoy when I suck the boogers out of his nose. Yes, you read that correctly.

Seriously though, nothing gives you the anxiety-sweats quite like a baby with a stuffy nose does. Invest in a snot sucker, you won’t be sorry. It’s only partly as gross as it sounds.

7. He looks deeply into my eyes moments before he pees on himself (and me) during naked time. I think this is his way of giving me a heads up. He’s always looking out for me, the little tyke.

No matter how often it happens, you’re never prepared for it. And yes, your mouth is open every time.

6. He supports and empowers my breastfeeding endeavors by vigorously pulling off to look around whenever we’re in public, exposing my (newly bendy) crayon nipple. It’s as if to say, “Are you all seeing this? My mom’s the best!”. But never when we’re alone together. Only when others are around, to make the most of the proud display.

Note: I totally support breastfeeding in public. In private. On a train or in the rain. On a boat or with a goat. Well not…WITH a goat. I don’t mean breastfeed a goat. I just mean…if a goat’s there then…that’s cool.

5. He farts repeatedly when you try to have a serious conversation with another adult. It’s as if to say, “Meh, it’s all good”. He’s so chill like that.

Why is it that farts often sound like questions?

4. He wakes me up every few hours to remind me of how much he cares.

3. He loves my singing.

2. He smiles really, really big when I say the word “mommy”.

No picture necessary. He also smiles when I say “hi”, “naptime”, “stinky feet”, “poopy bum”… He pretty much smiles all the time. But especially when I say “mommy”.

1. He gives me verbal encouragement as I narrate our entire day.

And I really do narrate our entire day.

So a lot of these things may be assumed. But I’m confident that’s what he’s thinking. And a mother’s instinct is never wrong.

[Unless your instinct is to leave you baby alone in a parked car. Or give him/her Coca-cola. Then you are, indeed, wrong.]

I hope you enjoyed my first HOAR list. More to come.

Your, HOAR

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Published by Heather on a Rock

Over-dramatic. Mom says I'm funny. Writer. Physiotherapist. Actor. Founder of This Piece of Gum on the Table next to Me as I Type This. (dibs). Born and raised in Newfoundland. Lovely, lovely Newfoundland. "The Rock" - where creative ideas wash over you like salt water.
Raisins ruin baked goods.
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Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. My friend Kyran Pittman (from Corner Brook) turned her blog into the AMAZING book Planing Dandelions. Our book club bought the book and LOVED it. We will also buy your, so add 15 books to that best sellers list.

Oh geez! I laughed out loud maybe 7 times but the crayon nipple and the image of the squirming breast feeder gave me tears. How awesome.
PS. I’d buy the book & if enforce it on a good 5 or 6 of my Mummy girlfriends.